


Set it free

by effer_vescencia



Series: What they used to be [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effer_vescencia/pseuds/effer_vescencia
Summary: Jeremy used to be an angry kid. He still is. He just got better at hiding it.
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Series: What they used to be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790824
Comments: 19
Kudos: 71





	Set it free

Jeremy Knox used to be an angry kid. Jeremy was still angry. He just got better at hiding it.

*

For a few weeks, Jeremy became the bully. Middle school was a scary place, somewhere you had to belong if you wanted to survive. Jeremy knew the rules: he had to be the strongest.

There was this kid. Lonely kid, a walking cliché in his behavior. Good grades, a little weird, what you called a nerd. That kid was an easy target. It was easy for Jeremy to call him names, loved the laughter that followed his words. Hated the look in the kid’s eyes. Hated the way his heart clenched, and the guilt. One day, the kid cried. At first, Jeremy was angry with him. _You’re making it more difficult than it has to be_. Then with himself. _Who are you what are you doing this is bad bad bad_. He let the kid alone for the rest of the year. He never saw him again.

*

Jeremy’s little brother was sick. Badly sick. So sick he needed to go to the hospital regularly. So sick he was pale and weak and breakable. Sometimes, Jeremy couldn’t bear to look at him. And this made him angry, too. The day he died, a few weeks before Jeremy’s first days of high school, Jeremy felt nothing but a wave of burning anger, taking him apart. _Why me why him why us_. It was unfair. He did nothing wrong. But then he thought of the kid back in middle school, the one he hurt and _is this my punishment?_ He promised himself that he will never hurt a single soul ever again.

He lost his mom too, in a way he thought was more tragic. She was there, but not really, a ghost of a person of a woman of a mother. She sat on her favorite chair, lost in her head, lost in her pain. His dad, though, talked to Jeremy like nothing had changed. Maybe that was worse. Acting like it didn’t happen. Jeremy didn’t know. He just wanted the pain to stop. And the anger to go away.

*

Exy managed his anger. Kicking a ball and opponents, this was how he coped. And he was good at it. So good at it he got into USC, threw a party at his house to celebrate, got so drunk he kissed a boy and liked it. He can’t remember the boy’s face, nor his name. Just the beating of his own heart, his sweaty palms, and _is it wrong, wrong, wrong? If it’s wrong, why does it feel so good?_

He told his parents, then. _Mom, Dad, I think I like men_. And they said _it’s okay love you’re okay we’re proud of you_. And for a minute he was so happy he feared his heart might explode.

*

College wasn’t what he expected. Sleepless nights writing essays, naps at 4 pm and a lot of junk food. A lot of Exy, too. Not a lot of parties, not a lot of boys, none, to be exact. Jeremy felt lonely surrounded by people who adored him. Maybe _adore_ is the word. They didn’t love _him_. They adored Jeremy and the way he smiles and because he wins.

Alvarez and Laila were the sweet exceptions, a constant in his little life, two stars in a black and scary night. He loved them. But sometimes he got angry too. The two of them, they had their little private universe, in which Jeremy had no part of. _Excluded_ isn’t really what he felt. It was jealousy: why couldn’t he have something like that, too? Playful smiles, watching eyes, a surreal symbiosis, a kiss at the corner of his mouth when he would tell a joke.

If he wanted, he could have heated and meaningless nights, strangers in his bedroom. But he didn’t. Because it didn’t feel _right_.

*

Junior year and Jeremy was made captain. Because he was good. At Exy and with people. With the press. Because he was cheerful, and he seemed _so_ happy. Does he have _problems_? Does he suffer, sometimes? Jeremy smiled a lot, and people told him he was handsome, and he liked the praise, but he wished it meant something. Something real. Something right.

His anxiety got worse. _What if I’m not good enough? Will they still like me?_ He got into USC on scholarship. Failure was not an option. Not for him.

*

Jean Moreau came to USC, and a few things changed.

*

Jeremy knew of Jean. He knew what he looked like, in an Exy gear, in a suit and covered in bruises. He knew the strength of his handshake and the pleading of his eyes.

His skin was blue and red and green, a patchwork of colors. His eyes were very grey when he looked at Jeremy, everywhere but in his eyes.

“I don’t want your pity,” Jean told him when Jeremy offered to clean his wounds.

Jeremy wanted to laugh. He knew a lot about pity, having a dead brother and a depressed mom. But he just shrugged, and left, because he is afraid and a coward and a very weak man with a very weak heart.

*

Jean flinched when Rhemann came too close. He was wary of Jeremy’s every movement, didn’t like it when others touched him. The Trojans were a touchy team: claps on shoulders and one-arm-hugs. That night, without thinking, Jeremy grabbed Jean’s elbow to pull him into a post-win hug. He went stiff, and Jeremy realized his mistake. He let him go. “I wish I could do this,” Jean muttered. He turned away and walked fast towards the locker room. Jeremy trailed after him, his heart beating _you made a mistake you made a mistake you made a mistake._

Seeing a glimpse of the scars on Jean’s back made Jeremy angry. For a few seconds, he relished in the feeling, letting it take his body. Jeremy was angry with Riko and at the whole world, at the laws of the universe, with God and _why did it happen?_ He thought of his own punishment and realized it was not a punishment at all. It was not about him, because, he, too, was a piece in a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“What are you looking at?”

Jeremy got caught and left the locker room like the coward he was. Back in his own room, he collapsed on his bed and cried just a little bit, five, six, seven and eight seconds. He wanted to scream. He didn’t.

*

Jeremy’s mother called him at three in the morning, on a Tuesday. She said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. It just hurt a lot and everything and everyone was too much. I hope you’ll forgive me”. Jeremy let her hear him cry.

*

Hunter wasn’t happy.

“He’s not made for us, Jere. I don’t care how good he is. He just doesn’t _match_.”

“Just let him some time,” Jeremy answered. “You don’t know what it’s like, for him.”

Hunter left the locker room, kicking the bench with his racket. Jeremy tried not to flinch. He failed.

*

Hunter was jealous. He snarled at Jean whenever he could. He thought the former Raven was the anomaly. Turned out Hunter was the black swan, pouring his dark mood on the team. Jealousy is an ugly thing. Irrational, barely made of any logic. But it is all-compassing. It obscures your thoughts and your feelings, plays with your anger and your self-esteem. Jeremy was no stranger to jealousy. He was human. But the difference, just like his anger, was that he hid it and didn’t take it on others. Because it was _his_ to manage. And it was nobody’s fault.

It all came crashing down on a Wednesday afternoon, in the common room. The scene took place like this: Hunter chest to chest with Jean, his index finger pressing on Jean’s shoulder. “It wasn’t enough for you to be Jeremy’s favorite. Dare I say _pet_. Now you steal _my_ place on _my_ team, and I shouldn’t say a thing because you’re _so_ breakable? That’s fucking bullshit!”

“Enough!”

Jeremy’s cry echoed.

Jean’s eyes were fixed on Hunter’s face. He was afraid, Jeremy could tell. And Jeremy, who swore Jean was _safe, safe you’re safe_ , failed to keep his promise. But could he really protect him from fear?

Finally, _finally_ , Hunter took a step back. With one last glance to Jeremy, he slammed the door behind him.

*

Jean was a god. Played Exy like he was born for it. The court was where he seemed the most alive. He was good. Better than Jeremy, better than everyone on this team. But it made Jeremy angry, too. Because you couldn’t achieve this level of greatness without suffering. The scars on Jean’s body, from his neck to his fingers, were proof. He played as if his life depended on it.

And Jeremy shivered at the thought, because it was true.

*

This story is not original. The lonely boy falling for the broken boy. It was pitiful.

*

Jean smiled. It was the smallest and rarest thing. Just with his lips, without showing his teeth, but it was _something_. And Jeremy was cautious with it.

“ _You_ are ridiculous,” Jean said.

“You didn’t like my joke?” Jeremy answered.

Jean shook his head and finished his drink.

“Your jokes are bad. You do them on purpose. It’s annoying. Watching you try to make me laugh. But I appreciate the effort.”

Jean kissed Jeremy’s cheek, near the corner of his mouth. It was so close to what he wanted, Jeremy felt like crying.

*

Jean laughed. Jeremy fell, scratched his knee like a kid, and Jean laughed.

*

Jeremy liked to watch the sunrays dance on Jean’s hair, the way his features appeared softer. He laughed at the way his eyes squinted, facing the sun, cursing at the Californian weather.

Jean was adapting. It wasn’t easy. He was scared and hid it with harsh words. He was cold and distant, but, little by little, he let himself smile, lashed out a few sarcastic comments that could pass as friendly, and Jeremy beamed.

Just like Alvarez and Laila, Jean was an invariant in Jeremy’s life. He always caught his eyes when he entered the room, sought the warmth of his skin when he sat close. Felt so happy when Jean laughed at his jokes, his so-called very bad jokes.

But then, Jeremy started noticing other things. Like the way Jean’s shoulders moved beneath a tight T-shirt, the angle of his jaw, the beauty of his eyes. He wanted to write poetry, to touch his cheek and

To

Kiss

Him.

*

They were in a club. Jean was _sulking_. He only came because _we just won against the Foxes, dammit_. He stood there, surrounded by people, tall and terrifying, while Laila tried to convince him to dance with her. Jeremy flashed him a secret smile, _their_ secret smile, and Jean responded in kind. Jeremy’s heart fluttered. 

Jean finally let himself go, and Jeremy watched, amazed, two of his favorite people, holding hands, carefree and so, so young, bouncing around a crowded club. Jeremy joined, the three of them forming a little circle, a little place where they could just be, sweaty palms against sweaty palms. Jeremy was very happy.

*

“I used to be so happy,” Jean whispered. “That’s what hurt the most. Knowing who I was, back then. I was happy, and they took that away, and left me with a body devoid of feelings. The worse, is that I can remember _every_ single day in this place. Every blow, every touch. But I can’t feel that kind of happiness anymore.”

*

On a cold January afternoon, a few weeks after the end of Christmas break, Ichirou Moriyama came to practice. His identity was given away by the cry Jean let out at Jeremy’s left. His heart sank.

Rheman couldn’t believe his eyes. “What the _hell_ is he doing here? Everyone, get out of here.”

Jean didn’t move. You could only hear his harsh and hard breathing. They watched Rheman and Ichirou talk, saw fingers pointed in Jean’s direction. They waited. Rheman never raised his voice. But now, you could hear it, the angry strain it had. Not loud enough to understand what he said, enough to get this wasn’t going well.

Finally, Ichirou made his way to them. Rheman followed close. Slowly, Jeremy placed his forearm on Jean’s. He pressed back.

What was said, Jeremy didn’t know. Ichirou talked in Japanese, his words making sense to only Jean. He talked without stopping, his tone even. Jean flinched, once. Then he broke. Ichirou walked back, and Jeremy crouched next to Jean, holding him tight. He told him, “Scream if you want to. Scream all you want. Let it go. I’m holding you, and I’ll never let go.”

And Jean screamed,

And screamed,

And screamed.

*

“My father’s dead,” Jean said. “Ichirou came to tell me this, and to remind me that I still owed him. That I should never forget that I’m still his.”

*

Victory was one game away. The last time as a captain, his last chance to prove himself. Jeremy wanted to carve his name in history. He couldn’t fail. Wouldn’t.

They played against the Ravens. They were ferocious. Didn’t play fair. They kicked and used their words to hurt. Jeremy was angry. But they were _winning_. 

Then the game stopped. Jean was on the ground, the Raven captain standing above him. Jeremy ran. He saw the hand of the Raven captain rising, his other one grabbing Jean’s gear. Followed by the words, “You used to like it, huh?”

But, this time, Jeremy could act. He could and he _did_.

He set the anger free. It didn’t matter. 

They won.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Jean said, later.

“Don’t make me regret it. Because I don’t, and I won’t” Jeremy answered. He took Jean’s hand. Jean was a cold person: he rarely smiled, stood tall and untouchable, his chin raised high. But his skin was warm under Jeremy’s touch. “I would do it a hundred times over.”

*

“He didn’t deserve to die. He was that bubble of energy and joy, always smiling, always happy. He never showed he was in pain. He used to hold my hand, and tell me that it was gonna be okay,” Jeremy said. “I was the older one. I was supposed to _tell him_ that. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t _lie_.”

*

“You’re so good,” Jean said. “And it makes me angry because you don’t seem to realize how good you are.”

“Sometimes, I get angry, and I’m afraid it’s all I’m ever gonna feel”.

“It’s okay to feel angry. Everyone does. You’re good because you don’t use it as a way to destroy. That’s what _he_ did. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Jeremy”.

“And how do you see me?”

“Kind and patient and sensible and strong and handsome and beautiful.”

Jean kissed Jeremy. It was gentle, just a press of lips, for three little seconds. Then, Jean let himself be in Jeremy’s arms, and Jeremy _ached ached ached_.

*

They did not kiss again. Not until Jeremy’s graduation, a few months down the line. But sometimes they held hands. Jean liked to close his eyes and rest on Jeremy’s shoulder. Just the smallest touches. A kiss on the cheek, and near the corner of his mouth when he told very bad jokes. Two arms touching. A secret smile. It was enough for Jeremy. He felt calm. At peace. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in. _Please let me have this_.

**Author's Note:**

> oh hi! 
> 
> i really really hope you liked this. and i would be glad to hear your thoughts.
> 
> as you may have guessed, english isn't my first language (french is). so, if you've spotted any mistake, please let me know!
> 
> this may have a sequel, with jean's pov, but he’s such a complex character I fear I won’t do him justice. let me know if that's something you would be interested in. 
> 
> stay safe<3


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